The Hardest Mission
by MissPadfoot101
Summary: "The Hardest Mission" is a very short and sweet story about a military couple balancing their military duties and personal life. Lester/OC
1. Baby

Disclaimer: I do not own Lester (the character) or the Stephanie Plum series. This short-story is only inspired by the Plum world, out of canon.

 **The Hardest Mission**

I had arrived from my deployment only four months earlier, and Lester had been called for duty, which, to us, was a familiar routine. We would be away from each other four to five months at a time. So now, he was standing in his green uniform with a heavy camouflage backpack strapped around his shoulders.

"We need a pregnancy test," I announced, closing my eyes as if doing so would reduce the fear that had taken over me. Lester and I had spent the last two years of our six-year marriage struggling to get pregnant.

Lester froze on the spot, dropped his duffle bag, and kneeled to my feet. He ran a hand through his shaved head and narrowed his eyes.

"Are you sure?" I cocked my head and rolled my eyes. He grinned in response. Lester was a handsome man, tanned and with a full set of eyebrows framing his green eyes. "Let's get a test, then."

"We should get chocolate cake too," I said, fidgeting in my seat before adding, "just in case."

It had taken a long time for us to agree to have children. Lester came from a big family, and I was an only child. My skills were zero to none when it came to taking care of little people. My expertise remained in working with machine guns and grenades. I could be a beast when it came to grenades. The soldiers we trained called me the terminator.

Ten minutes later, we were riding on the elevator. Lester gripped my hand tighter and pulled me closer to him. He must have sensed my fear. My self-doubt increased with every step we took toward the door. On our way to the store, we neared the park, where shrieking children ran wild kicking a soccer ball. They seemed so fragile and small. I forced myself to tear my eyes away.

The green sign over the grocery store read, "Milan," and the place was empty when we arrived. The aisles were organized, and the floors sparkled under the bright florescent lights. I had driven vehicles in war, fought my way out of ambushes, and completed missions without losing anyone on my team, yet the store, with its sterile floors and yellow walls, made me feel as though I was going in for surgery.

The cashier gave us a military salute as we walked inside. Old Sam was a veteran and an old friend of ours. I followed after Lester, letting him lead the way through the aisles. The rows appeared to elongate on our way to the back shelf, where the tampons, sanitary pads, and pregnancy tests lived.

"If the test is positive," I said, "don't go dying on me."

"I'm only going on a training mission," he said, "Only three months."

"Children are not my area of expertise." My voice was shaky, half an order and half a whisper. "I would be counting on you to help me through it."

"It'll be our personal mission," he replied. I could not remember which one we picked. I did remember, however, how the walk home seemed shorter. I remember the pink plus sign on the window of the white stick, Lester's soft laugh, and his back when he marched out the door.

A three-month mission turned into a six-month deployment. The time stretched before me until he came back home.

"We never got the chocolate cake," I said, settling next to him and to the welcoming rumble of his chest when he laughed. I traced the bullet scar over his heart, now completely healed, and focused on the sound of rain hitting the window. The rain and the heat of his skin next me felt like home.

"Babe, go back to sleep." Lester reached out to touch my belly. The baby kicked. My heartbeat quickened, but it was no longer out of fear. The fear had been replaced with the proactive drive of a soldier.

"Babe, go back to sleep." Lester reached out to touch my belly. The baby kicked.

My heartbeat quickened, but it was no longer out of fear. The fear had been replaced with

the proactive drive of a soldier.

I welcome all types of reviews. Thanks for reading.


	2. Work

Disclaimer: I do not own Lester (the character) or the Stephanie Plum series. This short-story is only inspired by the Plum world, out of canon. Please note I do not have a beta reader. Thanks for reading, and I hope you guys enjoy it.

 **Work**

Pregnancy not only impaired my ability to wear matching shoes, but it also weakened my balance. I glanced over the sleeping figure of my husband and decided not to wake him. The poor fool was recovering from several wounds and mending a leg. Instead, I planted my bare feet on the cold tile and lurched my body forward.

"Emma," Lester mumbled when the stress of my weight came off the mattress. He woke, eyes wide and searching. "Are you sick?"

"I'm all right," I said, waving off his concern, but my wobble had him scrambling off the bed and coming to my aid. "Go back to sleep. You are going to hurt yourself."

"Is the baby okay?" He sat up and rubbed his hands over my belly.

"This child won't let me sleep." My voice sounded whiny to my ears. Lester's warm hands smoothed over my skin, slithered under my breasts and my belly button. The baby wiggled under his touch, and a bright smile appeared on Lester's face. "I feel like you're doing to abandon me once this baby's out of me."

"Alex and I will come visit you every six months," he said, matter-of-fact. I smacked him over the head. The familiar playfulness between the two of us resulted in Lester's cry of pain. "You're so short-tempered today."

"Pregnancy causes hormonal imbalance." I took his head in my hands and examined all the sharp and soft edges of his face. Lester's green eyes compared to my brown always reminded me of our mixed ancestries. The contrast of my olive skin against his darker shade made me wonder about our child. The baby could have his eyes and skin tone and my light brown hair. "Would you like to name our child Alex?"

"Of course not; Alex will be my second wife." My eyes connected with his, and I stood motionless, letting the silence blanket the five seconds that followed. The man in front of me interrupted the moment by throwing his head back and barking a laugh. "If looks could kill."

"Why did I marry you?" I muttered, untangling myself from his arms and wobbling my way to the bathroom. I pushed my hair back and proceeded to brush my teeth. In truth, if Lester had not shown up with his goofy smile, optimism, and inexplicable ability to get on my nerves, I would have never married. It's not that I don't believe in marriage. My parents are proof that successful marriages exist, but I never envisioned getting married. I never aspired to it or fantasized about my wedding day or having babies. The baby in my belly nudged as if it had read my thoughts.

"Are you sure?" Lester's voice could be heard through the bathroom door. My mate knocked on the door, pulled it open, and leaned against the frame. My eyes zeroed in on the cell phone pressed against his ear. It was my highly secured, bat-calls-only, RangeMan-issued cell phone. "I'll let her know, but this could be out of her hands."

"What is it?" I managed to say through the toothbrush in my mouth. My brain sorted through the legal jargon regarding stolen property, arson, and military weapon laws in preparation. "What did he do know?"

"It's not Ranger," Lester answered, shifting his weight to relief his casted leg. "It's Stephanie Plum."

"Why doesn't Ranger train her properly?" I could not understand why anyone would become a bounty hunter without the proper training. I didn't know the woman in question, but all of Stephanie Plum's escapades had appeared on the front pages of our RangeMan weekly newsletter. The reviews were always positive, with links to online articles praising Ms. Plum and RangeMan for their services, but the woman's methods were amateur and dangerous.

"She's not a RangeMan employee," Lester said, his eyes scanning my body before landing on my butt. "Anyhow, she needs your legal expertise. Ranger has requested we meet with him at the local precinct."

"Both of us?" My husband's current physical condition required him to rest. The calendar taped to our bathroom mirror listed Lester's physical therapy sessions and our doctor's appointments. We also need to start building the nursery, and, most importantly, finally tell my parents about the baby. "You need to stay here and heal before this baby is born."

"You can drop me off at RangeMan's headquarters," he responded, lifting himself off the door and pulling his shirt over his head. He staggered forward but skillfully removed the rest of his clothes and joined me in the shower.

"What do you think you're doing?" He could slip, fall, and worsen his condition.

"A man can dream," he sighed, giving me a somber look. I poked his torso, right above the stitches in a knife wound. "Ouch, that hurts."

"Why won't you behave?" He smirked and planted a soft kiss on my lips, and my hands flew to his chest with a moan. I traced the scar on his chest. The bullet had only scrapped the skin, but the promise of the bigger damage remained in the form of a scar.

"You wouldn't like me if I did," he said. Of course, he was right.

-rs-

Reviews are always welcomed.


	3. Murder

Disclaimer: I do not own Lester (the character) or the Stephanie Plum series. This short-story is only inspired by the Plum world, out of canon. Please note I do not have a beta reader (I would love to have one). Thanks for reading, and I hope you guys enjoy it.

 **Murder**

RangeMan headquarters in Trenton, New Jersey, has always evoked memories of my time interning at the Pentagon. The building saw a constant stream of military men, including a few ex-convicts, politicians, and high-profile businesspeople. However, the type of job was usually less complicated and not always law-abiding. Tank waited for us in the garage. I took in the stern expression on his face. He appeared freshly showered, sporting a bandage on his left cheek and scratches on his fingers. I walked out of the car, into his arms, and hugged him with all my might.

"My doll-baby," he said. I punched his bicep in response to the horrendous endearment. The squad had taken it upon themselves to use all types of sisterly or semi-sisterly endearments with me. He caught my hand on the second punch and chuckled. "Let me see you real quick."

"What do you think?" I stepped back and gave him a view of my navy blue maternity dress. The item had a decorative knot under my breasts, which I layered with a black blazer. Tank's big arms reached out, and his hands hovered over my belly. I nodded in approval, and he allowed his fingertips to grace my bulging stomach. I put my hands over his and pressed them against my tummy. The baby kicked, as if sensing what was happening. "It's a xenomorph."

Tank's sudden laughter boomed in my ears. "You've been watching too many _Alien_ movies, but yes, probably. That's a strong kicker."

"Hey, that's my child you're talking about," Lester called out. My mate stood leaning against the hood of the car. I rushed to him and threw his arm over my shoulders to help him walk to the door. Tank patted my husband's back and ushered us inside.

"Brief me," I ordered once we were inside, in Ranger's office, and out of earshot. Lester sat on the chair next to mine and propped up his casted leg on my lap. I tickled the exposed skin on his leg.

"Our Stephanie has been accused of the first-degree murder of a federal agent." Tank said, and the brawny man's voice quivered at the last two words. Lester's jaw dropped. "We don't know how to respond."

"Stephanie would never murder anyone." Lester straightened in his seat. Tank and I both stared at him in response.

"Well, at least not purposely," he amended.

"She was found at the scene of the crime two weeks ago." Tank pushed a file across the table, where I found two pictures and medical reports. "The coroner assigned to the case placed the time of death around 14:45. Stephanie was seen entering the building only 15 minutes earlier."

"Why wasn't I called earlier?" Ranger and Tank knew the gravity of this case. A prompt response would have been the best form of action.

"We didn't know he was FBI. Stephanie was only picked up from her parents' home this morning." Tank picked up a newspaper and dropped it over the file in front of me. The _Trenton Times's_ headline read "Heroin Lord Suspect On the Loose." "Mark Pond was assigned to a case relating to heroin. He went under the name Sean Paul."

"Are you serious? Does no one have any creativity?" Tank shrugged before focusing his eyes on me. He obviously didn't find the situation funny. Lester, on the other hand, stifled a laugh.

"Emma, I understand if you can't do this job." Tank was trying to give me an out, but the expression on his face worried me. I never liked seeing my friends and family suffer. He waved a hand in Lester's general direction and stared pointedly at my belly. Lester tried to swipe at Tank's hand but failed. "You have a lot on your plate right now."

"Yes, we are sure to have similar challenges in the future." The task of raising a child while working for RangeMan, occasionally being call to train military members, and attending to personal duties wasn't going to be easy. "We might as well get used to it now."

"Let me know if there's anything you need, sweetheart," Tank rose and appraised me carefully. "You probably shouldn't be around Stephanie without Ranger nearby. She tends to attract explosions."

"The woman has a reputation," I acknowledged. The men escorted me to the garage, where my favorite black Porsche waited for me. I slid into the driver's seat with a mischievous grin on my face and waved at my audience. Lester stood with tight lips and an arched brow, piercing me with his eyes. I drove slowly out of the garage, a measure that was meant to reassure them, but stomped on the accelerator once their faces were out of view. The baby inside me kicked. "Yes, I know you like it, too."

-rs-

Thanks for reading. I would love some feedback.


	4. Feds

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Lester (the character) or the Stephanie Plum series. This short-story is only inspired by the Plum world, out of canon.

 **Today's chapter is completely unedited. I was in a rush to post a chapter on my self-inflicted deadline (learning self-discipline here), and I had to sacrifice the proofreading. Regardless, I hope it's still enjoyable. Thanks for reading!**

Feds

"Finally, you are here." Ranger pulled me into a tight embrace. The stoic expression on his face fell for several seconds and quickly snapped back into place.

"I can't breathe," I grunted pushing against his biceps and looking up at him. The man in front of me had disheveled hair, dirty clothes, and tired eyes. "You look like shit."

"You look ten months pregnant," he said, scanning me from head to toe, and I knew he was looking for signs of distress, harm or anything that signaled a life of unhappiness. "I appreciate you coming."

"Tank briefed me. Is there anything else I should know?" He gave me the rest of the details, and we walked into the precinct to find it swarming with FEDS. Identifying the FEDS among all the commotions was easy. The exclusive detectives were usually the entitled looking ones in the crowd. Police officers never liked FEDS in their territory. Thus, they walked around with sour faces.

"Who are you?" The dark-hair man standing in front of me stood with a patrician expression and arms crossed over his chest. I could have confused him with FED if it wasn't for the uniform.

"Defense Attorney Emma Rosario-Santos," I said. He shook my offered hand and glanced suspiciously at Ranger. The police tag on his shirt identified him as "J. Morelli."

"Why does your name sound familiar?" The officer relaxed his stance, but he kept his voice low. It was easy to deduct by his posture that he was on Stephanie's side on this controversy.

"Mrs. Rosario-Santos was one of the first women to train in Ranger school," Ranger replied, pressing a protective hand against my lower back. "She's also a criminal defense lawyer who honed her skills at the Pentagon."

"If you could excuse me." A sudden urge to pee had me blocking out the officer's words. The baby in my womb kept dancing on my bladder. It was easy to find the bathroom, but it was a challenge to hover over the bowl holding a briefcase with a seven-month baby testing my balance. Pregnancy brought with it many physical challenges, some a little less welcomed than balance impairment.

On my way out of the restroom, I bumped into a head of red hair attached to broad shoulders. I recognized the man as Liam Robinson. He stood next to a short-woman with short curly hair in a pencil skirt, a well-known federal attorney, Melissa Prentis. They turned to me in unison.

"Emma." The redheaded man mouthed my name.

"Good Afternoon Mr. Robinson and Ms. Prantis." I contorted my face to avoid showing any emotion. The woman took my hand offered, but the man stood watchfully next to us. "Mrs. Rosario-Santos, and I'm Ms. Plum's attorney. Could someone direct me to my client?"

"Mrs. Rosario-Santos, your client is a suspect of first-degree murder." Ms. Plantis' shifted her weight to her left foot and glanced at Robinson from the corner of her eyes. She shuffled the folders in her arms and looked at me squarely in the eyes. "Due to the evidence gathered it would be beneficial for your client to confess."

"The evidence indicates that Mr. Pond had fatal wounds on his body dated two hours before Ms. Plum arrival to the scene of the crime." I dropped my briefcase on the nearest desk and pulled out a copy of the coroner's report. "Is your team stalling to get a false confession out of my client?"

"We have circumstantial evidence…" I put my hand up, signaling for her for Ms. Printis to stop.

"Circumstantial evidence is not enough, Ms. Printis. You know that very well." If the governmental unit was willing to place a woman under custody without so little evidence, then something was amiss. "If my client is only a suspect, I'll be advising Ms. Plum not to respond to any further questions. She is going home, but she'll collaborate with the investigation if needed."

"She was found at the scene," Ms. Printis said firmly.

"Ms. Printis, I understand you're new around town, but my client is often stumbling into dead bodies and robberies. I'm sure you have seen the news clippings." The shorter woman curled her lip and grunted irritably.

"Let me take you to your client, Emma." Liam Robinson's fingers touched my lower back in a hesitant move, but he ignored the woman's frown and guided me through the small corridor leading to the holding room. "Rosario-Santos, I see you married Lester after all."

"It's none of your business." The snapped words had flown out of my mouth before I had a chance to process them. If I had, I would have known it would elicit further judgment.

"We were good friends once, Emma," he replied, halting in his step, and taking the liberty to put both of his hands on my shoulders. Robinson's eyes were touched with tears, but he did a good job at holding them inside. He always did anyway. "Lester Santos might be a good man, but Ranger and the rest of his squad have only made you suffer. Stephanie Plum will be the second victim of his amateur leadership."

"I'm happy Liam." My hands flew to my belly in a reflex reaction to his passionate statement. A quick glance over my shoulder reassured me. Ranger was staring at me while still listening to Officer Morelli. "If you excuse me, my client needs my help."

-rs-

Stephanie Plum was a tall woman with striking blue eyes and soft-looking curls. She carried traces of Italian ancestry on her face. She stared at me with wide eyes, taking in my demeanor, my belly, and my briefcase.

"Would you like some water? Bathroom?" The woman continued to watch me, seemingly taking in my every word.

"I need to use to toilet," she said, promptly rising from her chair, but the handcuff that tied her to the table halt her movements.

"It's a calculated technique by law enforcement to deprive the subject of necessities such as sleep, food, water, and bathroom visits to obtain a confession." She shuddered when my hands touched her cuffed arm. Quick work on the keyhole and the metal dropped on the table. "I'm your lawyer."

"What kind of lawyer are you?" She was rubbing her wrist and staring at the metal that kept her tethered to the table.

"Ranger sent me." My answer seemed to be sufficient enough because the cloud of questions on her face disappeared, but she continued to look frightened. "He's outside pacing a hole in the ground, and he wants to see you. I'll accompany you to the restroom. You can freshen up, and we'll check you out of here."

"The FBI detective said I was going to prison," she protested, her eyes now overflowing with tears. "He said there is evidence proving that I killed Sean Paul."

"Sean Paul?"

"The heroin lord."

"Oh, right." I had forgotten that little detail from Tank's briefing. The late detective's undercover name was Sean Paul. "The detective who said those things to you, did he have red hair?"

She nodded.

"Don't worry about him. He's melodramatic." A rueful smile appeared on her face, but it did not stop her shaking. "Listen, there might be newscasters waiting outside trying to get a glance at you. I will need you to keep your head high and wear this sunglasses."

"Yes, yes of course," she said, taking the glasses with trembling hands and following me out of the office. Liam waited outside the door with release documents in hand. I reviewed them carefully before my client signed.

"I forgot to congratulate you on baby," Liam said, reviewing the signed agreement, his eyes on the page. "We'll be in contact."

Ranger, having been sent to wait outside by frustrated police officers, scooped Stephanie up in his arms and rushed her into his car before the media had a chance to post questions. In the morning, the only pictures in the newspaper would be a hunky dark-skinned man carrying a curly hair woman into a fancy car.

-rs-

Thanks for reading!


	5. Guilt

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Lester (the character) or the Stephanie Plum series. This short-story is only inspired by the Plum world, out of canon. Please note I do not have a beta reader (I would love to have one).

 **I am not a lawyer or have any experience in law. All law related mistakes are my own and reflective of my poor research skills. Also, my goal is to post a chapter every Saturday and Monday. I loved reading all of your reviews for the last chapter and decided to post a little earlier. Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoy this new chapter.**

 **Guilt**

RangeMan headquarters was unusually silent when I drove into the garage. The Porsche turned off soundlessly when I turned the key. Out of the corner of my eyes, I caught a glimpse of Ranger and Stephanie standing closely together. Ranger jogged to my door and pulled it open for me before I had the chance to reach for the handle. He offered me a hand for balance, helped me up and drew me into his chest.

"Thank you," he said, pressing a kiss on my temple. The man smelled of citrusy cologne and sweat, which reminded me that he was my brother, not my enemy. "How could I ever repay you _hermosura_?"

"I wish you would stop looking at me with guilt in your eyes." It might not have been the appropriate setting for such discussion, but it seemed like perfect timing.

"Did Robinson say anything of value?" He asked, his voice was flat, and the tendons in his neck protruded, but his face remained stoic as always.

"No, he didn't," I said with a sigh and reached out to caress his cheek. Ranger's jaw softened at my touch, and he cupped my hand. Stephanie stood a short distance away, staring our way fixedly, her bloodshot eyes filled with confusion. "Why don't you let Stephanie get some rest? We can regroup once she's ready. I'll need her version of the story."

Ranger's patrician expression returned. He kissed my forehead once again and walked back to the woman holding his heart. I collected my briefcase and wobbled to the elevators that would take me to my mate. My feet had swollen after such a busy day. My practical and sensible shoes were now cutting my circulation.

We waited for the elevator, and the doors to the elevator dinged open to reveal Tank standing in an otherwise empty carrier.

"Doll-baby, you're back." The burly man blushed under the overhead light. "You got Stephanie. It's good to see you, Steph."

"It's good to be out of there," Stephanie opened her arms and enveloped Tank in a hug. Tank recovered from the unexpected contact and lifted her off the floor with a tight embrace. It was evident they had a new, but bubbling, friendship. Ranger plucked Stephanie out of Tank's arms and pressed her firmly against himself.

"Tank, where's my husband?" Suddenly, the light fixtures on the ceiling caught his attention. "Tank?"

"Lester is in your apartment. We had to redo the stitches on the stomach," Tank sighed, beckoning me into the elevator.

"Lester?" Stephanie asked.

"Emma Rosario-Santos," Ranger said, securing his hold on Stephanie when she tried to wiggle out of his arms. "As I told you, Emma and I are related."

"You are pregnant," Stephanie said.

"Yes, and your boyfriend here thinks I'm ten months pregnant." Stephanie blushed tomato red and her lips curved into a protesting scold. She was about to vocalize her disagreement, but I cut her off. "What did you do to him, Tank?"

"I didn't do anything!" The taller man held his hands up. I huffed in disbelief and wobbled out the doors when the elevators doors opened on my floor.

"Don't kill him," Ranger called out with a chortle. It wasn't very ladylike of me, but I gave him the finger.

"If Lester dies, you will have to take responsibility for this baby," I panted. The same baby was pressing on my lungs and making it difficult for me to breathe.

"It's a baby xenomorph," Tank warned.

"Like in the _Alien_ movies?" Stephanie's voice was the last to be heard as the doors closed.

-rs-

I walked into my RangeMan assigned apartment to find Lester stretched out on the sofa with his torso exposed. Our issued apartment wasn't as big as our house, but the space was comfortable and modern. The apartment, however, always looked too small for Lester.

"Babe." The skin around his stitches appeared ruby red. The man had gotten an infection after the first surgery, and the doctors had to reopen the wound to clean it. Otherwise, he would have healed the wound by now. Lester lurched himself to a sitting position with a growl. The pain on his face had me rushing to his side and stumbling into his arms. "I didn't think the stables would come out. It was only fifty pounds."

"Lester Santos, why were you weight lifting?" I panted. He steadied me and helped me sit next to him on the sofa.

"I was bored and did something stupid." He kissed me and pushed my hair away from my face. "Babe, your hair is all tangled back here."

"I drove back with the windows opened," I said, dropping my briefcase, which slit off my hands and landed on the floor with a bam.

"How did it go?" Lester pulled my legs up onto his lap and removed my shoes.

"The FEDS were stalling." A moan escaped my lips when his finger kneaded the skin between my big toe and the arch of my foot. "I think they are desperate to find the murderer, even if it cost them their licenses.

"Is Stephanie okay?" he asked.

"She seemed frazzled, but I'm not sure about Ranger." My hands cupped the bowling ball that was my growing baby and allowed my body to relax under my husband's gentle strokes on my foot.

"He loves her," Lester stated with a voice full of conviction. We had all seen the evidence of Ranger's devotion to Stephanie Plum for years.

"Liam was at the precinct."

"Liam Hemsworth?"

"Yes, and he saw me, fell in love with me, and offered me to run away with him." Lester chuckled, but the words eventually settled in, and he stilled. He grabbed my arm, not tight, but with enough strength that it demanded my attention.

"Did he hurt you? Did he say anything to you?" Lester's eyes turned wild in little time.

"No, he didn't hurt me. He's one of the detectives in charge of the murder case." I examined Lester's solemn face for five seconds trying to identify his emotions. "He doesn't think I should be working with Ranger."

"Liam Robinson still blames Ranger for what happened to you." My husband gently and patiently, pulled me into his arms. I attempted to squeeze out of his hold to avoid further damaging the site of the wound, but my husband managed to make me melt into his body with his kisses.

"He doesn't understand," I mumbled, breathing in Lester's spicy scent. He smelled like cinnamon, and of something wild, unknown.

"No, he doesn't." Lester had somehow managed to curve his body around mine on the small sofa, and now he was carefully untangling the knots in my hair. "Emma, you are my life, if you don't want to be near my cousin, I would understand. We could go anywhere."

"I know that, Lester." I swallowed the knot in my throat, and I pressed a kiss on his nose, his cheek, and his mouth before resting my head back on his shoulder. "But it wasn't Ranger's fault."

"It wasn't yours either," he said.

"I know."

-rs-

Babes, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I would love to hear what you think.


	6. Love

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Lester (the character) or the Stephanie Plum series. This short-story is only inspired by the Plum world, out of canon. Please note I do not have a beta reader (I would love to have one).

 **My apologies for not posting a chapter last week. My father's family came to visit from Spain, and then I got sick. Please note, I do not have a beta reader, but I hope you enjoy this chapter nonetheless. Also, I am not a lawyer or have any experience in law. All law related mistakes are my own and reflective of my poor research skills. Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoy it. Happy Day!**

 **Love**

Lester and I woke up to find a life-sized teddy bear smiling at us in our living room. The teddy sported a black t-shirt, a bulletproof vest, military boots, a Ranger's beret, and no pants. The bulletproof vest was left opened to reveal the words "RangeBear" on the toy's chest. It was the color of honey and sat staring at us with bright brown eyes.

"Did you hear them come in?" I had come to learn that pregnancy could also cause insomnia, and it was hard getting comfortable enough to sleep. But, by some miracle, I had slept like a baby.

"I didn't." My husband limped closer to the giant teddy, which was taller and bigger than him in dimension. "First, I'll check if it's armed and then lock it in our guest room."

"Babe, be careful." I didn't have the heart to tell him that he lacked the balance to handle the giant toy. It was hard enough for him being forced to remain sedentary for the last eight weeks. "I'm going to visit Tank to discuss the need for a daycare center in the building."

"Go for it." Lester's words were muffled by the teddy bear he was trying to lift off the floor. He picked up the toy for a brief moment, lost his balance, and fell straight into its belly. "I'm okay."

"Babe," I said.

Our RangeMan friends had a sense of humor. Matching slippers on, I wobbled out the door and left my husband latching onto the bear and looking defeated. Tank's door, only ten steps away from ours, stood out in a dark red color that marked him as Ranger's second in command.

"Good morning sweetheart," Tank greeted me, already showered and dressed to face the day. I pressed a kiss on his chubby cheek and walked past him into his open concept apartment in search of the fridge.

"You are the only person in this building who buys ice cream," I said. He also owned a jar of pickles and honey mustard. Tank walked over to his kitchen's island, where I prepared a quick concoction of pickles, ice cream, and mustard.

"Doll-baby, I don't think you should eat that." Tank grabbed the bowl out of my hands and started for the sink. "You and the baby could get food poisoning."

"Do you know what happens to people who deny food to pregnant ladies?" I demanded, blocking his path and making a show of rubbing my growing belly. The burly man eyed me suspiciously, glancing between the bowl in his hands and me. "You could get styes all over your eyes. Do you want that?"

"Fine," he said with a huff and returned the bowl. I scooped a spoonful of the mixture into my mouth and sighed in contentment at the combination of flavors.

"Yum," I said. Tank's face contorted when I licked the spoon, but he seemed to recover quickly. I took two more spoonfuls before returning my attention to him. "We need an employee daycare in this building."

"Did you talk to Ranger about this idea?" he asked, taking a seat across from me. Tank, unlike Ranger, was always direct and honest with me. He also took my side on matters more often than not.

"He'll come around." I swallowed another spoonful of ice cream and staggered back to the door. "Thanks for the food."

"Did you just come visit me for my food?" He turned around in his seat, crossed his arms, and watched me expectantly.

"Yes?" I said, offering a smile. He sighed.

"Emma, Liam Robinson came by last night." Tank's tone changed with his body language, and he looked at me with the gaze of a concerned parent. "He wanted to see you, but he met with Ranger instead."

"Did they fight?" My heart quickened, and my lungs began to beg for a bit more air. The baby inside kick boxed with the wall of my stomach in response.

"No, Liam didn't come to pick a fight with Ranger." Tank rose and walked around his kitchen island to his living room, where he picked up a package on the coffee table. "He left this for you. We ran some tests on it just in case."

"Thank you," I said, rolling my eyes at the men's illogical concern for me. Tank plucked the ice cream and pickles off my arms and replaced them with the box, which was the size of a small shoebox. "Did Ranger tell you what they spoke about?"

"No, but it's my job to take care of everyone working for this company," Tank said, his eyes piercing. He caressed my cheek before gingerly touching my belly. "I'm afraid this case might bring back some bad memories for you, sweetheart."

"I can handle it." It has been about ten years since the attack, and I had become a different person. "I am stronger now."

"No offense, my dear, but you're pregnant and hormonal. You're eating pickles with ice cream bathed in mustard." Tank leaned against the door, blocking my exit, and enthusiastically shaking his head.

"Do you remember what I said about pregnant women and food?" Tank bestowed a knowing smile, one hand flying to his chest.

"I'm offended." He removed his weight from the door and opened it for me. "Please tell Lester the physical therapist is coming in today to evaluate him, and I also approved your doctors' home visit."

"What are you talking about?" I had yet to send Ranger or Tank my calendar, which was riddled with medical appointments, because I didn't want to give them a reason to keep me off from work. It meant Lester and I had to take time off to travel to appointments.

"Lester limped his way to my office and demanded that I rearrange all of your appointments," Tank grunted, lowering his voice to match Lester's register. The expression on his face changed to match the tone. "He comes here and tells me: _there's no reason my wife should be running back and forth worried about making time for her appointments or mine."_

"And you just granted his request?"

"Of course not, but he went ahead and made all the calls, scheduled the infirmary room, and ordered the necessary equipment," Tank shook his head, irritated by my husband's antics. Lester's plans meant that Tank had to personally complete the background check of all the medical personnel my husband hired. "Are you crying?"

"Never! I'm just leaking." I wiped off the lonesome tear running down my cheek and pressing the box against my chest. "Tank, I just happy and in love with my husband."

-rs-

Babes, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I would love to hear what you think.


	7. Stephanie

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Lester (the character) or the Stephanie Plum series. This short-story is only inspired by the Plum world, out of canon.

 **Today's chapter is another rushed order (unedited). I have a self-imposed deadline (learning self-discipline here), and I had to sacrifice the proofreading. Regardless, I hope it's still enjoyable. Thanks for reading!**

 **Stephanie**

"Yes, dressed in RangeMan gear with the exception of pants." There was a moment of silence on the other line, and if it had not been Ranger, I would have thought he was finding the whole situation hilarious. Lester gave me a look of curiosity from across the room, unable to decipher the bewilderment on my face.

"I need to see this new member of our team right away," Ranger said, hanging up before I had the chance to respond. Sure enough, Ranger and Stephanie appeared at our door shortly after I related the information to Lester.

"Where's the perpetrator?" Ranger's greeting had Stephanie frowning. Lester and I pointed to the guest room, and the two newcomers followed our directions. A few seconds passed, and suddenly Ranger's booming laughter filled out home.

"You are laughing," Stephanie noted with a look of astonishment, not used to seeing Ranger laugh, and the expression on her face morphed into deep worry.

"Ranger's is half Vulcan." I said. The brunette's gaze shifted to my direction, and Lester made the Vulcan sign, a smirk on his face. "But instead of sex, he only laughs once or twice every eight years."

"It's good to see you, Beautiful." My husband made his way to Stephanie and gathered her into his arms. The brunette seemed to take a breath of relief before Lester planted a kiss on her forehead. "You sure keep things interesting around here."

"It's not my intention, trust me." Stephanie crossed her arms over her chest and pouted at the floor.

"What do you think of _my babe_?" Lester staggered to my side and rubbed my belly. " _My_ babe is going to give birth to a little babe."

"Is it a girl?" Ranger asked with a spark of genuine curiosity in his voice. He took a sit on our sofa and tucked gently on Stephanie's arm. She sat next to him with some hesitancy, taking in our small RangeMan issued apartment.

"Lester doesn't want to know," I said, offering our guest cold refreshments, which my husband lovingly made to make up for Tank taking away my ice cream. "Regardless, we need an employee day care in this building."

"A day care?" Ranger couldn't hide the horror in his voice. Stephanie narrowed her eyes and looked at the man next to her with curiosity. It was evident she wasn't used to seeing Ranger act human.

"Who's going to take care of this baby?" The baby kicked and my words came out breathlessly. Lester rushed to my side and kissed my belly. I ran my fingers through his hair, which had grown with inexplicable speed.

"Well, the baby definitely has my strength," he said proudly.

"Are you sure it would be safe to have a half xenomorph child," Ranger waved at Lester's direction before continuing, "running around with the other employees' children?"

"My child is not a xenomorph." Lester's animated gesticulations had us both going silent. We stared at Stephanie, whose contagious giggles ended with a loud snort.

"You are half Vulcan," I noted, pressing a kiss on my husband's cheek, "and you run the company."

"You are all geeks," Stephanie said.

"Why can't Lester become a househusband?" Ranger asked, and Lester picked up a pillow from an armchair and aimed it at Ranger's face. The latter caught it with the skill of a football player, his face expressionless, but there was laughter in his eyes.

"We are not the only employees with children." I wobbled to the kitchen to retrieve my tablet and handed it to Ranger before depositing myself in a chair with Lester's help. "Many of your employees have toddlers. It would be a big incentive."

"Is this some kind of 'lean-in' argument?" The stoic Ranger returned, a sign that he was listening.

"It's a logical argument," Lester said, sitting on the arm of my chair. "You know the children will be safe."

"Fine," Ranger said, surveying the list of employees. "Are you sure you could take this case, Emma?"

"I won't talk to you ever again if you take me off this case, Carlos." Stephanie, who's silence had me guessing on her wellbeing, scooted to the edge of the sofa and looked over her shoulders to Ranger.

"I would like for Emma to continue serving as my lawyer," she said, her voice firm but almost apologetic. Lester looked down at me, reading the confusion on my face and shook his head.

"Arms-length," my husband whispered in my ear, reminding me of an old conversation. He had told me Ranger kept Stephanie at arms-length, hinting at the promise of a relationship, but never quite giving in. Stephanie, therefore, appeared to balance her relationship with Ranger and her police officer boyfriend while walking on a tightrope. And she was close to falling and getting hurt.

"A broken husband and a xenomorph on the way." Ranger seemed thoughtful for a few seconds. Lester sent another pillow flying across the room. "I just wanted to make sure."

"Stephanie, I would like to go over the scene with you this afternoon." She nodded vigorously, turning her body to my direction. "I need you to tell me everything you learned during the investigation. I also would like to talk to your neighbors and your family."

"My family?" The look terror on Stephanie's face had me even more intrigued. She fidgeted with her hands. "I… I don't want to involve my family."

"We won't involve them in the case," I said tightly, leaning into Lester and letting him dust off an eyelash from my cheek, "but I would like insight into how people see you."

"Why?" Ranger asked, pulling Stephanie into his body. He had known me long enough to know when a case had become a puzzle.

"I just want to make sure there isn't anything else going on," I said, omitting the fact that there were also more personal and selfish reasons behind my interest in meeting Stephanie's family. "The feds are eager to close this case, and it would be nice to be one step ahead of the investigation."

"Thank you Emma," Stephanie said, and her voice trembled when she spoke. "There's a lot I need to tell you."

"Babe." Ranger kissed the brunette's temple, and his eyes closed for two seconds. Lester and I watched silently, taking in Ranger's protective body language and Stephanie's unsuccessful attempts to look strong.

"Stephanie, do you know Ranger stole the "babe" thing from me?" Lester asked. The brunette beauty looked up at us with a rueful smile, but my husband's teasing failed to make Stephanie laugh.

"Emma, I think I killed the detective," she said and burst into tears.

-RS-

Babes, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I would love to hear what you think. If you liked it, sorry it's short.


	8. Truth

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Lester (the character) or the Stephanie Plum series. This short-story is only inspired by the Plum world, out of canon.

 **Today's chapter is another rushed order (unedited). I have a self-imposed deadline (learning self-discipline here), and I had to sacrifice the proofreading.**

 **My apologies for having you wait so long. I'll try not to let it happen again, and I hope you enjoyable this chapter. Thanks for reading!**

 **The Truth**

In our living room, Lester and I had a picture of us on our wedding day, mounted on an antique frame. The golden and intricate setting was a gift from Lester's mother on our first anniversary. In the picture, Lester and I were engaged in an intimate exchange, looking into each other's eyes and smiling after realizing that we were going to be okay.

"What are you thinking?" I asked Stephanie, who sat staring at the photo. She took the Wonder Woman themed tissue box in my hands and dabbed her eyes. I offered a smile and sat next to her on the sofa.

"I'm sorry for crying," she whispered and looked at me with a guilty expression on her face.

"Why do we always do that?" I regarded her carefully, studying her puzzled response for a moment. "Why do we always apologize?"

"I don't understand," she said.

"Women," I clarified, mimicking her posture in a weak attempt to make her feel comfortable. "We apologize for walking in public, for having feelings, and for asking for help."

"Oh, I've never thought about it much." Stephanie's attention returned to the image on the wall. "How long have you and Lester been married?"

"We met twelve years ago," I said, forcing my pregnancy brain to remember the age of my marriage. "We have been married for nine years."

"I never imagined that one of the Merry Men could be married." Stephanie's expression became pensive. "Ranger makes it seem impossible."

"I told you, he's not human," I said, and made a mental note to ask Lester about the 'Merry men' comparison.

"I call him Batman," she said, with a warm smile.

"At least Batman was human," I said. Stephanie's small faltered at the sight of the pile of files I placed on the coffee table.

"Tell me, what happened?" I tried to make my voice softer and gentler, propping my weight against the back of the sofa to accommodate for my poor balance. "Why do you think you're responsible for the detective's death?"

"Sean Paul was alive when I arrived," she said, and a heavy silence descended on us. Stephanie clasped her shaking hands on her lap.

"The coroner's reports indicated that Sean Paul was dead before you arrived," I reminded her gently, digging into the pile of paperwork. "What did he look like?"

"He was tall, dark, and muscular," she said, her eyes glazing for a second.

"All right, he was handsome, but could you remember anything specific about him?" I asked, half of my focus directed to the report, the coroner's signature, and the passport-type picture clipped to the file. "Is this he?"

Stephanie inspected the image. The man in the photograph had an oval-shaped face with sharp edges, silky locks of hair, and "come hither" eyes. The report listed him as Asian, and his features suggested a mixed ancestry.

"Yes, that's Sean Paul," she said, with a light blush on her cheeks.

"Umm." Mark Pond, also known as Sean Paul, died due to severe wounds on his back. The pathologist counted sixteen knife wounds in total. It was the type of murder that suggested passion and rage. The person who killed this man, whose corpse was autopsied, was angry. "What happened when you arrived?"

"The house seemed empty." Stephanie let out a nervous laugh, which she covered with her hand. "I knocked on the door several times, but no one answered. So, I walked around the house looking for an open window."

"Did anyone see you come in?" The testimony Stephanie had given the feds conveniently left out the premeditated breaking and entering. She told the feds the entrance door was wide open when she arrived.

"No, I don't think so," she said. "I drove around the compound, climbed the privacy fence and used the back door."

"Did you find the detective in the house?" I asked.

"Yes, but I wasn't looking for him." Stephanie's hands stilled for a few seconds, and her gaze found mine once again. "I was looking for a petty thief by the name of Edward Bard, not for Sean Paul."

"Had you seen the detective before?" She nodded.

"He had popped up a couple of times while I searched for the thief. Sean kept trying to convince me to stop looking for Bard." She dropped and shook her head, seemingly recollecting her thoughts. "In the house, he showed me his badge and quickly explained that he was an undercover detective. Then, all the bad things happened."

I got the sense that whatever was to follow was a significant or traumatic experience for the woman next to me.

"I was drugged," Stephanie croaked, quickly wiping away a runaway tear, only to bury her face in her hands. "He was telling me all about this man, a dangerous drug dealer, when the door opened. It was Bard, and he looked angry. Sean Paul whispered for me to follow his league, and he engaged Bard in a conversation, but I couldn't follow the thread."

"Would you like me to call Ranger?" I asked. She shook her head, wiping away more tears. I pushed a glass of water in her hands and cajoled her to take a few sips.

"Sean held my hand and pretended that we were a couple." Stephanie took a deep breath, taking substantial chunks of air into her lungs. I kept quiet, never passing judgment or looking alarmed. When she finally looked up again, the woman appeared resolved. "We all walked to the kitchen, and Bard unzipped a backpack full of drugs. Sean reached in and picked a package, but I can't remember what exactly."

"Just tell me what you remember." I attempted to sound encouraging and to give her strength with my words, but my insecurities reigned. My deficiency in being a nurturing person with people other than Lester made me wish I could go back to handling grenades for military training. It was my biggest weakness as a lawyer, and the reason why I only worked for Ranger.

"Sean sniffed it and passed it down to me." Stephanie paused, took another sip of water and sighed. "I'd never really done drugs before, but I mimicked his actions. After that, I can't remember anything. I woke up in a bedroom closet bathed in blood, and his body lied in a pool of blood in the living room.

"How did you get out?" The records didn't mention anything about Stephanie's clothes.

"I left the house through the back door," she said, her eyes steady and focused on the object in her mind's eye. "The house is in an isolated neighborhood. I hosed myself down in the backyard and changed into clean clothes. I carry an overnight bag in the car in case my apartment goes up in flames, and that's when I noticed that my gun was gone. I went back to the house to search for it, but the back door was shut, and I had to use the main door. Ranger told me a neighbor saw me come in."

"Were you examined by a doctor afterward?" I asked, struggling to read her mental and physical state. Stephanie wasn't fit, but she appeared physically healthy enough for an average civilian. A little bit of training would turn her into a promising bounty hunter. Mentally, however, she was a mystery.

"No," she answered with a shocked and tormented expression on her face. Stephanie did not mention any of these things to the police officers on call, and for the looks of it, her reputation and her police officer boyfriend had gotten her out of the situation quickly. "I… I don't know what happened while I was out."

"We can't jump to conclusions," I said. Drugs do not stay in the system for long, which ruled out blood tests. We could only guess from the method of consumption on the type of drug used, but it could have been a mixture of things. "Stephanie, I want you to undergo a physical examination."

-rs-

Ranger was quick in arranging for a medical provider's visit. Only hours after my conversation with Stephanie, a conservatively dressed woman with wise eyes greeted us at the infirmary. The physician, who asked us to call her Dr. Malley, and Stephanie disappeared into a pristine looking examination room. Ranger and I remained behind in the waiting room.

"Why does she need a doctor?" Ranger demanded when the door closed, his usually stoic expression shadowed by the worry in his eyes. I had spoken to Stephanie about what to tell him, and we had decided the best solution was honesty.

"Stephanie was drugged." I matched the intensity in his tone. "She remembers finding the detective and the drug dealer, the drugs, and waking up drenched in blood."

Ranger ran a hand through his hair and glared at the door separating him from the woman. Watching Ranger around Stephanie was interesting. He seemed to let out a more wild side of him, protective and mildly dangerous.

"On the list of medical requests, you ordered an evaluation for sexual assault," he said, and his words came out strained.

"It's routine," I said firmly, "you know it."

The man marched to the door of the infirmary room, ready to push it open, but halted. Instead, he walked back and dropped onto a chair. I sat next to him and studied the wooden floors over my bulging belly.

"Lester wants you to be our baby's godfather," I said. Ranger reached out to rub my stomach, seemingly relaxing. The baby wiggled under his touch. "I have yet to agree."

"I'm just happy for the two of you," Ranger said, giving me a minuscule smile. "It means a lot to me that you're happy."

"Why aren't you and Stephanie an item?" I asked.

"It's complicated."

"When isn't it complicated?" I snorted, knowing the man long enough to guess on the complexities of his life. Carlos had been forged in pain and become the man he is today, Ranger. "If you're not going to be with Stephanie, then I suggest you cut it clean and let her be happy with someone else."

"Stephanie is not tethered to me in any way, and she's aware that life with me would put her in danger." Ranger was good at hiding his emotions from the rest of the world, but it was harder to hide his past from those that lived through it with him.

"You can continue to believe your own lie." I scanned his face for a sign, anything at all, that would give him away.

"I can't give her what she needs," he said, avoiding my eyes, his hands fisted on his thighs. "Life with me would put her in danger."

"Carlos, you're not responsible for what happened to me," I said, and my words came out as a plea. "Why can't you get it through your thick skull?"

"Emma." The concern in his voice echoed in my brain. We rose. I was breathless, and he had a rabid look in his eyes. He grabbed my arm, not forcefully, but tight enough to hurt. "It's not just you. My daughter and Stephanie were both hurt because of me, and it's not happening again."

"My rape wasn't your fault, and you know it." I freed my arm from his grip, and ran, half wobbling, out of the infirmary.

"I was their commanding officer," he spat, following me closely. I could feel him gauging my balance. "It was my responsibility to send them home before their inappropriate behavior escalated, but I dismissed the problem, and you paid for it."

I found Lester was waiting for me in the hallway, and like always, his arms were wide open. I fell into his embrace like a fish out of water. He glowered at Ranger, murmured sweet nothings into my ear, and ushered me into the elevator lift. I didn't shed any tears, although my eyes were hurt and swollen.

-rs-

 **Important Note:**

 **If you are a victim of rape or sexual assault seeking help, contact RAINN:** **Call 800. (4673)**

 **About Rape in the Military:**

 **In the United States, our current laws regarding rape in the military determine that commanding officers are responsible for the rape or sexual assault of anyone under their command.**

 **If a person is sexually assaulted or raped, that person needs to report the crime to his or her assigned commanding officer (who could also be the perpetrator).**

 **Then, it is up to the commander to determine whether the charge can go to court for a fair trial. However, commanding officers could be punished, together with the team and the victim, for the assault.**

 **Commanding officers can also stop a court trial or punish the officer for reporting the crime without permission. These are the reason why many of our militaries do not report their sexual assault or rape.**

 **More information:** www . pbs wgbh / frontline / article / why-the-military-has-a-rape-problem /


	9. Loving

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Lester (the character) or the Stephanie Plum series. This short-story is only inspired by the Plum world, out of canon.

 **Once again, today's chapter is another rushed order (unedited). I have a self-imposed deadline (learning self-discipline here), which means I had to sacrifice the proofreading. My apologies if the last chapter was a little too sad. I hope this one makes up for it.**

 **Loving**

Lester walked out of the bathroom wearing nothing but a pizza-themed apron, which was too small to cover all of him.

"What do you think?" He asked. I bit my bottom lip to restrain myself from laughing. My husband proceeded to click on the music and walk the imaginary catwalk. The cast on his leg did not deter Lester at the least. He made up for his limping by shoulder shimming with every step. The laughter bubbled from the pit of my stomach and out of my mouth.

"Babe, you're too sexy," I shouted over the music. He winked at me before turning off the music and waltzing to my side.

"I love you," he said, lying next to me on the bed and pressing his lips against mine. It was one of those tender and delicious kisses that leave you craving more.

"Thanks for making me laugh," I said, entwining our fingers.

"I didn't want to make you laugh," he huffed looking semi-disappointed, but the smile on his face was contagious. "I wanted to seduce you into having sex with me."

"Sex is getting a little complicated right now," I said, rubbing my belly for emphasis. Lester eyed the belly like a parent scolding a child.

"Maybe we can Google some tips online," he said, wiggling his eyebrows.

"I'm not going to search for pregnancy porn with you," I punched his shoulder, feeling a little indignant. The thought of looking at pictures of naked people made uncomfortable, and it had Lester laughing at the terrified expression on my face.

"I remembered that you're a prude," he said matter-of-factly, which earned him another punch on the shoulder. Lester winced, sat up, and picked up his tablet from the night table. "I suspected that you would react this way. So, I did my research earlier today and found some safe illustrations for us to examine."

My husband opened the imagines on the screen, and he was right. It was series of cartoonish illustrated were safe for my eyes. I cuddled closer to him, snuggling into his body, and we spent the next few minutes studying the guide in silence.

"I can't believe we're going to be parents," he whispered suddenly, and the wonder and love in his voice ached in all the right ways. Lester always wanted children, and we had tried for so long to get pregnant that it felt like it would never happen. It had challenged our marriage and my sanity in ways I never imagined. "What's going through your head?"

"What if I unconsciously pass down all of my emotional baggage to our child?" I asked, feeling the tears pool in my eyes. "And if you haven't noticed, I'm not a nurturing human."

"You're nurturing with me," he said, putting the tablet aside and wrapping his arms around me. "The way you care for me, our friends, when you accompany me to my appointments even though there's no need."

I snorted at the last comment, but it didn't stop him. Instead, he chuckled at my eloquent response and began a trail of kisses down my neck.

"You're honest, passionate and kind," he continued between kisses. I raked my fingers through his hair, fisting it in my hands, and pecked his lips.

"You help me be all of those things," I said, making sure our eyes were connected. It was from Lester that I knew when a friend needed company or assistance. He always pushed me and challenged me to bring joy to the world. It helped not to become bitter and wallow in the past. Nevertheless, he also gives me space to built myself up from within on my own, while he watches and cheers from the sidelines.

"Do you want to tell me what happened with Ranger?" He asked gently.

"I tried to address his guilt about the rape," I mumbled, feeling a little ashamed admitting it to my husband.

"Babe, I told you there was no point bringing it up." Lester cupped my face and caressed my cheek with his thumb.

"I feel guilty for being happy," I said, and this time the tears did fall. One by one, the droplets fell from my eyes and rolled down my cheeks. I wiped them away with a little too much force.

"It's good to cry." My husband kissed my forehead and scissored my legs with his own. "It's healthy."

"I'm tired of feeling guilty," I said, burying my face in the crook of his neck.

"Ranger's happiness is not your responsibility," Lester reminded me following a long moment of silence. "Could it be that you still feel guilty for what happened?"

I lifted my head, about to protest, but he held up a hand.

"Please, hear me out," he said, giving me a breathless kiss before continuing. "Subconsciously, deep inside perhaps, you feel it's your fault? It could be why you feel guilty seeing him unhappy."

"I feel like it's my fault that he's not happy because he no longer has a military career." I gasped at my own words, staring at my husband's gorgeous face. "As if I was responsible for the rape or sexual assault laws we were subjected. Lester, he was just trying to do the right thing. It isn't fair that he was punished."

"It wasn't your fault," Lester groaned, his arms tightened around me, drawing even closer to his body and into his warmth.

"You are such a smart man," I said, giving him another peck on the lips. In turn, he gave me that mischievous smile of his and sat up.

"How about we become real life versions of those illustrations?" He asked, and I realized he was positioning our bodies in a V-shaped position. I covered my blush with my hands, which only made him throw his head back and let out a barking laugh. My body, nevertheless, quickly gave into his gentle hands.

-rs-

We spent the afternoon tucked away in our room until our biological need for food called us out to the kitchen. We were spoiled with time, which we used to talk about the baby and to make love.

"I should check on Stephanie," I told Lester over dinner, and he verbalized his agreement. When dinner was made, I wobbled my way to the door, only to find Ranger standing outside seemingly lost.

"I am sorry," he said solemnly.

"Stephanie?" I asked, my lips tight.

"She's fine," he said with a deep breath. He ran a hand through his hair and stared at the room behind me with uncertainty. "Can I come in?"

"Sure." I stepped aside and motioned for him to walk in. Ranger's tall and muscular frame suddenly filled the room. Lester walked over from the living room with a sour expression on his face, his hands fisted.

"I came to apologize," Ranger said to Lester, raising his hands in defeat. "Could you give us a moment?"

"Lester knows everything," I sighed, crossing my arms over my belly.

"I owe you my honesty," he said, and I nodded in agreement. "The thought of Stephanie being hurt that way made me feel angry, and it brought back some memories. You were right about that."

"It's fine," I said, exchanging a knowing glance with my husband. "You were not the only one projecting."

Ranger slung an arm around me, tucked me closer, and kissed my forehead in an almost fatherly gesture. I curved my arms protectively around my belly and slid out of his hold, but he didn't appear fazed by my reaction. He had known long enough to know it was better to wait for me to initiate any physical contact. Very few people had my trust when it came to touching, and that included Lester and Tanks for some strange reason.

"Stephanie told me you wanted to visit her parents," he said, this time with a knowing grin on his face. "Good luck!"

-rs-

Thanks for reading. Please, don't be shy, let me know what you think.

Best, Steph


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